1976
by IsiGrace
Summary: Was there any way to groan louder? Puck would've, if he could. He didn't want to take the stupid dance lessons. Why did he have to? The world didn't depend on him knowing how to two-step. Puck hated dancing, and hated working with others even more. He knows it's karma coming to get him when he must do both- learn a duet with a loathed peer for a ball. Ember53608 Contest Entry.


**A/N: AH HELLO I HAVENT BEEN HERE IN A WHILE SORRY ABOUT THAT, SCHOOL AND HOMEWORK AND AP CLASSES AND SPORTS IS MY ONLY EXCUSE**

 **Also- this is my entry for Ember53608's contest! I know it's cutting it close, but I hope it's still accepted!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Sisters Grimm series**

 **A minor edit was put in place, thanks to my hovely almost-twin, Annie Carter!**

 **Read and review!**

* * *

 _Fall, 1976_

Was there any way to groan louder? He would've, if he could. He didn't want to take the stupid dance lessons his Mom had ordered. Why did he have to? It wasn't like the world depended on him knowing how to two-step. The whole thing was stupid.

He knew he sounded like a twelve year old. Technically, he was- at least physically. His almost four thousand years of life had at least taught him that he had to act older to get what he wanted, though. Puppy dog eyes only worked for a few hundred years.

"Come on! Do I have to?" Puck whined. He knew she wouldn't change her mind- she hadn't done so for the last two thousand years. It was worth a shot, though. Out of all the things she had ever asked- or, in his opinion, _ordered_ \- him to do, this was the worst. After fancy events, he could always go and roll around in a pile of mud, not a care in the world. This? He would have cooties on his hands forever, unless he decided to bathe, which wasn't an option.

"Yes." His mother's reply was sharp and curt. He continued pushing, although he knew the idea was stupid.

"I'm not gonna die if I don't! You can't force me to do this!" His voice was now raised, his hands thrown in the air. He began pacing, shaking his head and throwing glares at his mother.

Titania sat in her chair, one leg gracefully crossed over the other. Puck was being ridiculous. She silently let out a small sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I can."

"This is insane! You can't make me do this- it's basically a crime!" While his mother had kept a calm, steady tone, Puck was now shouting, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and nearly pulling it out. His face was slowly beginning to color, becoming redder with every second that passed.

"Having your son to take dancing lessons with a respectable girl is perfectly legal."

"Mom! Dancing lessons is bad enough- why her? She's so gross!"

"This isn't up for discussion. You will take the dancing lessons." Titania's eyes narrowed and pursed her lips, a sign that she wouldn't take any of this yelling from her son.

Puck sighed heavily, threw his head back, and ran his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and spoke again, annoyance in his voice.

"Why do I have to take this stupid dancing lesson, anyways? What am I gonna do, rule the kingdom by _literally_ waltzing through life?"

Titania sighed. Oberon practically yelled at her, accusing her of being too soft on Puck. He claimed Puck didn't know any manners or how to act kingly because she had never arranged for him to learn. She begged him not to banish her son as he had threatened to do, and he agreed only if she could teach Puck the proper etiquette for their upcoming ball.

She promised she could make it happen. Now? She wasn't so sure.

"Your father wants you to learn how to be kingly for the ball." She answered him truthfully, but left out the fact that he could- and most likely would- be banished if he failed.

"Whatever." Puck huffed. He knew it was pointless to fight back now. When his father wanted something, the jerk got it.

"Get ready," Titania said, breaking the brief silence, "Your first lesson begins within the hour."

 _Ugh_. If he could've groaned louder, he would've.

* * *

Puck couldn't do this. He couldn't do this in the most literal sense- not "he didn't want to" or "wouldn't", but he physically could not dance. Boring, prissy music Puck had heard time after time after time added onto complicated instructions- the instructor expected him to know what "one-two-step" meant- only led to an even more confusing lesson.

Mr. Saragogi, the instructor, wasn't the nicest, either, which didn't exactly help.

"No! You put your foot here-" He gestured by placing his foot in the proper position. "-then here-" Another gesture. "- and _then_ here!"

Puck, of course, wasn't paying attention. He was trying to decide how tall the instructor was in order to fully drench him with a vat filled with grease and grime from the dumpsters in the city streets. A short man for his age, Saragogi was roughly… five feet? That would be great. Puck knew exactly how high to place his vat of glop. But where would he put it?

"Mr. Goodfellow, are you even listening?"

Oh, right. Dance lesson. "What?"

A sigh. "Of course you're not."

"Perhaps you will better pick up the dance with a partner," he continued.

Crap. Puck knew what this meant. Saragogi saw his student's face blanch and eyes widen.

"No. Come on, man." Puck was nearly pleading at this point- he was on the verge of getting on his knees and begging.

"Well, it seems this might be the only way for you to learn. I was instructed not to stop the lesson until you can perform _at least_ one full dance. Unless you suddenly feel able to learn, I'm afraid I'll have to pull in your fiancé."

"No! Wait, I-uh, I can do the dance! Tell me how to do it, I'll do it. I'll do it, I swear." Oh god. The instructor knew as well as Puck did that his promise was meaningless. He had made no progress this far- in fact, Saragogi actually thought he might have gotten worse.

"If you say so, Mr. Goodfellow."

The classical music began to play once more, but Puck interrupted.

"Wait, wait, wait! Not this music. Please. This music sucks."

Saragogi sighed again. "What do you suggest you dance to, Mr. Goodfellow?"

An evil grin. "I have a great idea."

* * *

"No. Absolutely not. This is barely music- it's as if someone decided to bang on metal pots and made it a song!"

"What do you mean, 'this isn't music'? This is the best stuff I've heard in ages- I would know! All the humans love it too."

"No. This is an atrocity to my ears. How would one dance to this?

"That's your job! Teach me- I can dance to this. Besides, if I can't do it, you can just as easily bring her in- and I know how much you absolutely love teaching her."

He paled, remembering past experiences. The instructor had only threatened to call her in because he knew his student wouldn't enjoy it. He hadn't thought about the fact that he would have to teach her as well. He had taught her arithmetic before- it was a disaster, ending with him in the infirmary for the pencil stabbed in his hand- he still had a scar.

Saragogi sighed once more- this was starting to become a bad habit. "Fine. I suppose I can try to work with this trash."

Puck clapped, a grin plastered across his young face. "Awesome. See, that wasn't that hard."

An eye roll came from the dance instructor, who was now starting to think he was being underpaid. He walked over and began to play the music. A few snaps began the song, with a voice following soon after, accompanied by a piano played in a theatrical style. A bass guitar entered soon, in addition to a drum beat. The instructor mentally admitted that this song wasn't awful. A little too Broadway-esque for his taste, but he could easily set up Puck to do a quick ballroom dance to the song.

"Are you ready, Mr. Goodfellow?"

"As I'll ever be."

Two and a half hours later, Puck had nearly perfected the dance. A bent leg here, an overextended arm there- other than that, though, he had greatly improved since beginning. Throughout the lesson, the music had even begun to grow on Saragogi. He enjoyed the light heartedness of it.

Puck practiced on the ballroom floor once more while the instructor gave last minute lessons.

"Straighten your back more!"

"One, two, three, and… spin! Spin!"

"Yes! Perfect! Oh, except for that, that arm looked like a bending straw."

Saragogi had insisted that Puck practice until he could perform the entire dance perfectly, three times in a row. After a while, his student had already finished twice without error, and began on what was hopefully his last attempt. He spun around, hold a broom- yes, a broom- as his partner. He correctly spun, dipped, and wove his way around the ballroom, each step challenging perfection.

"Well done, Mr. Goodfellow. I believe that's all for practicing on your own. Are you prepared to do a rehearsal?"

A puzzled look settled itself on the youth's face. "Rehearsal? Like, a practice? With people?"

Puck snorted here, and began again. "I mean, I guess I could practice with you, but that'd be awkward."

Saragogi shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh, not exactly. I regret to inform you this, but you do have to practice with the Duchess' daughter before the event." Seeing Puck's face drop, he continued. "You don't have to learn it again, though. A different instructor has been teaching her.

"No. I won't do it until I absolutely have to."

"Sir?"

"Yeah, Saragogi?"

"I'm afraid that time has come."

"Crap."

* * *

Upon hearing it, Moth had been counting down the days until her lesson. She _finally_ got to dance with her fiancé, the love of her life. If she were a betting woman, she would place every last dime on he had been waiting for this moment as well.

Today, she had begun her first lesson. Her instructor was a drag, continuing to bore on and on about the different steps for her dance. At one point, he had left the room, leaving her to her thoughts. She wondered when Puck would begin his lessons, too. Her question was answered when the instructor came back inside and played a different song, explaining that her fiancé had requested it. So he was practicing that day, too!

Moth bugged her instructor, pleading to let her dance with him. After only a negative response, she decided to take a slightly more aggressive route- a desk was thrown sideways, the pens from it threatening the throat of her instructor. Eventually, the fellow wised up, and agreed to make it happen.

While he left, Moth was left to her thoughts once more. Her mind wandered to a conversation that had occurred between herself and her own mother.

 _"_ _He doesn't like me," she complained, speaking about her soon-to-be husband._

 _"_ _Of course he doesn't," her mother snapped back. "How could he? You're a miserable little brat who can do nothing but complain about herself and be a pebble in my shoe. You're not proper wife material. You may have the ring, but that can always be taken away or taken off."_

 _Moth nodded, criticizing herself. Her mother was right- all she was doing was complaining, and not making any effort to fix the problem._

 _"_ _So," she began, thinking. "What do you recommend to encourage affection?"_

 _Her mother rolled her eyes before responding. "Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable." Here she threw a pointed look to her daughter._

 _A brilliant idea, as expected from the Duchess. What reason did she have to dance with the Prince, though? She voiced her concern to her mother, and one call later, a ball had been scheduled. Now all she had to do was dance well and show she could make a great wife._

* * *

The day had finally come, the ball that both determined Moth's stability in her fiancé position and determined Puck's stability in the palace. The rehearsal had been boringly smooth. No one was overly excited, save Moth, who nearly fainted when she saw her almost-husband. Other than that, the practices had gone well.

That night, however, provided the extra weight of stress on both dancers' shoulders. The night flew by, with Puck refraining from speaking to guests, as his mother had instructed him as a safety measure to prevent something embarrassing from being said. At last, the dances began. Saragogi had come up with an arrangement for Puck's dance, and had spoken to the man in charge of the music playing. When he heard the first few beats, he nearly pulled Moth through the crowd, into the middle of the ballroom.

The dance went extremely smooth. The two glided across the floor with perfect poise, posture, and precision. The dance was quick at parts, but both dancers expertly moved their legs and feet. When it came the time for Puck to dip Moth, a few surrounding guests had clapped, encouraging the two.

Moth was nearly squealing from excitement. The way he held her, the way they danced together- it was as if the two were meant to be. He had never voiced his affection, but he didn't need to. Moth saw what most did not. Puck spoke to her with his glances, with his "accidental" moments of contact, the way he dressed up just for her. He had never said it aloud, but Moth understood the message he was sending: He loved her just as much as she loved him.

That's why Moth was surprised when, after they expertly finished their dance, he pushed her away and jumped back when she leaned in to kiss him. Why didn't he want her? He had held her hand through the entire dance! Sure, he was supposed to, but she could've sworn he held it tighter than in the practices. She had noticed his hands were slightly clammy, as well- a definite sign that he was nervous around her.

But why had he jumped back? When he rejected her approach, he had done so in quite a loud manner, causing a tense silence to fall over the guests. Puck looked furious and scared, like a fierce jungle cat, frightened by a loud noise but prepared to defend himself.

"How dare you!" He screeched, and the music had now ceased. His father had even noticed the tension, and was observing from behind his son.

"My… my Prince? What have I done to upset you?" Moth was scared too, afraid of being rejected by Puck on a much larger scale.

"You tried to kiss me! That's so gross! I don't even like you!" He was red in his face and yelling. He couldn't see it, but his father grew an equally angry expression.

"Robin!" His father bellowed, voice carrying across the ballroom, reaching every corner. "How dare you act with such anger in front of your own fiancé? I tried to solve this problem before, but your mother convinced me to give you a second chance. Now I see that the problem isn't your manners or your skills- it's _you_."

The guests were extremely silent at this point, barely daring to breathe.

Puck was taken aback, processing what had been said. He opened his mouth to begin to speak, but his father spoke faster.

"Leave. Now." Oberon said, pointing one cruel finger to the door.

"But I-"

"Now." His father's eyes narrowed again and continued to stare at his son.

Puck made his way out the doors of the ballroom, but heard his father speak to his mother while leaving.

"Oberon." His mom was pleading now, begging for Oberon not to be so harsh.

"Quiet, Titania," he said, brushing her off. "Find the Faerie Attorney. He will be officially banished by tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

Puck was gone before the sun rose, but Oberon still insisted on an official banishment document.

At this point, it was now Moth who was furious, smoke nearly coming out of her ears. This was all Oberon's fault! If he hadn't pushed Puck to have better etiquette, Moth would bet that her (ex?) fiancé would've still been there.

Moth knew that the second Puck came back, she could properly deal with his father. Until then, she would pass time by perfecting ways to poison the King. All she had to do now was wait for Puck's return. She could wait- she could wait thousands of years for the one she loved, and the one who loved her back equally.

She could wait, and she would.

* * *

 **A/N: What did you think of it? Love it? Hate it? Don't really know?**

 **This was kind of based off how I envisioned Puck being banished, ahahah!**

 **Anyways, don't forget to review! I love seeing reviews, even if they're not positive- I'd love to know what you guys thought of it, and what I can do to improve my writing abilities.**

 **I love you guys, and have a great day!**


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